“Whatever happens, we’ll still have our taco stand,” Freya said with mock seriousness.
I looped my arm through hers.
“Let’s go mingle,” I said, pulling us back toward the crowd.
Back toward my destiny.
50
Henry
Delilah appeared serene and calm at the end of the evening—chatting with Freya, making small talk with the guests, peering at the exhibits. I had no idea what was going on behind those blue eyes of hers—and no idea if she’d ever tell me. According to Abe, we’d be fake married and on another case as soon the Thornhills were needed again.
I didn’t know how the hell to feel about that. But I did know that standing around with my coworkers and pretending like I didn’t want to kiss Delilah Barrett absolutely senseless felt terrible.
All four of us were leaving—standing at the top of the steps with the skyline glittering below—when Francisco found us, hands out in apology.
“Delilah,” he said, grasping her hands. She arched her brow at him. “Please accept my deepest apologies for the things I said to you the other night. Completely unprofessional and highly unwarranted. Obviously, you knew what you were doing.”
“She did,” Abe said protectively. “Delilah is the reason we approached you that night.”
“And the reason we got the book back at all,” I inserted.
She flashed me a sly look. “I remember you having quite a hand in our success as well, Henry.”
“Both of you,” Francisco said, shaking his head. “I am embarrassed and ashamed. That’s all I can say.”
“Is payment being processed?” Abe asked.
“Of course.”
“Then no more apologies are necessary.”
I watched Delilah hide a smile behind her hand. But she shook Francisco’s hand sincerely. “Tempers were high. We’ve all been there. It has been an honor being a part of this book’s journey.”
Francisco didn’t look entirely convinced that he shouldn’t keep apologizing. But then he startled us both by turning, clamping a hand on my elbow. “I didn’t want to say this the other night. But I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Bernard. He fooled us all.”
My brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
The first time I’d met Francisco he’d indicated that he knew of me. Because of Bernard Allerton. But for what reason, he’d never said.
Francisco leaned in close to me and dropped his voice. “I know it’s not entirely public knowledge, but word travels fast in the antiquarian community. You know that. I’m aware of what transpired between you and Bernard. Believe it or not, you were gaining quite the reputation yourself before you joined Codex.”
My young successor. My heart broke—just slightly—at the reminder. And I wondered if I’d ever be able to think about that night without the deluge of guilt, regret, and utter sadness.
“I…had no idea,” I said.
“He was a mastermind. The access I gave Bernard when he’d come to visit the museum was extraordinary. He could have walked out of here with any number of things. I shudder now to think of how easily he manipulated me.”
Delilah was staring at me with wide eyes.
“In my experience,” Francisco said, “half the people in this room would do what Bernard did if they had the time and resources. Human beings are a covetous lot. Men like Bernard make a living out of fooling people.”
“So do women like Victoria,” Delilah added.
He took a step back at that. “Yes, well, now I need to live with my decisions. Because Victoria Whitney was given the same kind of access to that manuscript.”
“Bernard will turn up,” Abe said firmly. “And when he does, he will go to prison for a very long time.”
“And in the meantime, Codex has restored a tiny amount of justice. We have world-renowned astronomers here this evening who have told me this book is the reason why they became interested in our galaxy. School children will be here later this month for private viewings, to learn about the power of the brightest star in our sky.” He bade us farewell after that.
And as we walked down the stairs toward the curb, there was nothing I wanted more than to hold Delilah’s hand.
“Freya and I will be in the office tomorrow,” Abe said. “Come in if you’d like. If not, take a well-deserved day off.”
Freya gave Delilah a hug and clapped me on the shoulder. “See you on Monday?” Her gaze was quizzical, like she was puzzling something out. And when she looked back at Delilah, there was resignation there.
“Of course,” I said. Delilah and I both said good night to Abe and Freya, and I was grateful when they decided to share a cab home.
As soon as the taillights disappeared into traffic, Delilah turned to me and said, “My former coworker Margaret found me tonight. She’s bringing a lawsuit against Mark for manipulating her and lying to human resources to gain promotions.”
“You’re serious?”
Delilah nodded. “I told her I’d provide testimony. Public testimony.”
She stepped into me, and I wrapped my arms around her, filled with relief that I could touch her, hold her, caress her. Filled with happiness that she was fighting back in a way that made her proud. “The world is lucky to have you, Delilah Barrett.”
She lifted her head up, chin pressed to my chest. “Even Francisco was fooled by Bernard. You weren’t the only one.”
I knew she’d get it. “I think I can finally let it go.”
“Working at Codex, you mean?” Her eyebrows knotted together.
“No,” I said. “No, I want to work here. I mean that I’ve allowed Bernard to control me long enough. He was controlling me for ten years without my knowledge. I took this job because of him. I went after Victoria because of him. Maybe it’s time I do this job for me.”
A kind of peace came over her. “Take me home.”
My arm was raised to hail a taxi before she even finished the sentence. I knew we needed to talk. I knew whatever we were about to embark on couldn’t exist within our current reality.
But maybe we could have one more night.
51
Henry
Delilah didn’t seem to want to talk—not on the ride to my house, not when we walked through the door, not as she took my hand and led me slowly up the stairs to my bedroom. She kept the lights dim, allowing the glimmering moonlight to shine through the windows, painting my room silver. With her back toward me, she turned over her shoulder—allowing me a glimpse of that classical profile.
“Sit,” she instructed.
I sat.
Back still toward me, she reached behind and untied the knot holding her dress up. The material parted away from her spine, curving like the bow of a cello, revealing her skin in a slow, sensuous tease. With refined grace, Delilah hooked her fingers into the sides of her dress and slid the material over her hips, a private striptease, just for me.
With a sly grin, she dropped the material to the floor. She was left in sheer panties and black stilettos. I could barely swallow—my cock was so hard I could feel it pressing against my zipper.